Wednesday 12 September 2012--It's always good to go home, of course, but that doesn't mean we're always ready to go when the time comes. I'm
facing a 420-mile drive today. Standing here on Lubec's waterfront, looking at the docks and boats and islands afloat on the bay's mirrored surface,
I feel no desire whatever to get into the car.

In three weeks, I'll be off to Scotland. I've been going for fifteen years, and will continue to go as long as I can. I am reaching an age
where I feel some pressure to check more things off the list. I've done some of that on this trip--I went to Brier Island, Pictou, and Entry Island for
the first time, and I found Benjamin Allen's resting place. I also returned to the Magdalen Islands after eighteen years away, and left feeling that I
must return again before too long. Whether that will be next year, or the year after, or ever, I cannot now say. But I feel certain that there will be
more journeys to this, the western end of the North Atlantic Arc.